The room was still.
The air felt thick, heavy with smoke and blood.
Adrian stood at the door, his chest rising and falling fast. His hand trembled slightly as he raised the gun.
Cruz’s eyes were dark, still filled with the same pride that had ruled him all his life. He didn’t beg. He didn’t plead. He only watched his son with the calm of a man who thought himself untouchable.
“Do it,” Cruz whispered. “Show me you’re just like me.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched. His finger tightened—
And then there was a sound.
Sharp. Final.
The room went silent.
Smoke curled in the air. The echo faded into nothing.
Cruz slumped in his chair, his cigar rolling to the floor beside him. The faint glow at its tip dimmed out.
Adrian stood there, frozen. The gun hung loose in his hand.
For a moment, he could
